The Hanging Man
by The Giant Daifuku
Summary: Alice Kingsleigh is not happy with her life, and when she falls into Underland, it seems like a respite from the daily task of being a Victorian woman. But can she escape the intrigues of the dashing sky pirate, Balthier? 5th in the World Traveler Series.
1. In, Under, Around

So, hello again! I originally intended to leave _Our War Torn Earth_ as the final installment of the World Traveler series, but someone at school dared me to do this (scowl). So, this is the first chapter, so reviews are very good because not only do they encourage me, but they help direct where I will go with the rest of the story.

*Authors note on names: _The Hanging Man_— a rather ominous name, no? This title comes from the tarot card The Hanging Man, which is the image of a man upside down hanging from a tree. He represents the idea of paradox— nothing about him is what he seems, and though his card is rather simple in appearance, there is much more to him than meets the eye.

This first chapter I dedicate to **ElTangoDeRoxanne, Krjs, fallacies, **and **emeraldonyxdragon**, my most faithful reviewers and kindest supporters.

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Alice Kingsleigh was not pleased with the turn of events that had recently happened in her life. In fact, she was as far from pleased as a person in her situation could be. She had just escaped Hamish Ascot's proposal party, leaving the young, priggish Lord hanging in suspense while she chased after a white rabbit in a blue waistcoat. From there, her day had not gotten any better. The rabbit vanished into a rabbit hole in the base of a gnarled tree just as she almost caught up to it.

She sighed, gazing at the hole. It was a rather large hole, for a rabbit. Perhaps it was a different animal's hole, she thought as she got down on her knees and braced herself against the sides. In fact, it seemed large enough to swallow her up. Cold air wafted up from the inside, and she leaned forward further, peering into the depths, uncertain if what she felt was real or not.

Her hand slipped. Alice screamed as she fell down the hole, the entrance rapidly fading to a pinprick of light far, far above. Other things tumbled down with her, a piano missing her head by inches, chiming menacingly. Roots scratched at her dress and arms like claws.

After what felt like an eternity of falling, the bottom was finally in sight. She braced herself for the impact, only to find that the earthy floor shattered as soon as she hit it. Alice collapsed to a much harder, much more solid tiled floor, stars swimming before her eyes.

With a quiet moan, she pushed herself up, looking around the room with wary eyes. "Passing strange," she whispered. The chandelier stuck straight up out of the ground, and the doors were upside down. She looked up; there was a table on the ceiling, and her long, golden tresses reached for that table as if it had a mind of its own.

It was not the room that was upside down. It was she.

Alice took one final plunge to the ground, this time noting that everything was right side up. The room was strange, just as she had thought it was. There were no windows, only doors. Big doors, small doors, thin doors, fat doors, doors surrounded her on all sides of the tiny room. The only break from the walls of doors was a rich, red velvet curtain. Uncertainly, she began to try the handles of all the doors. They were locked, every single one of them. In desperation, she tore the velvet curtain aside. Nothing. A wall. She looked down— it was not really a wall, it turned out, but a very tiny door, the top of the frame no taller than her knee. Nevertheless, this door, too, was locked. She rocked back on her heels, biting her lip, and looked around the room again. This time, a tiny iron key glinted at her innocently on the glass table. She took the key in her hand and tried the doors again. On the smallest door— her heart sank— the lock clicked. Only managing to shove her head through the frame, Alice stared at the new world in which she found herself.

It was a garden, with towering plants and buzzing insects. Birds and strange creatures she knew not the names of fluttered back and forth amongst gigantic flowers. She withdrew her head back into the room, turning to the tabletop once more. As she expected, help had come once more. Leaving the door open, she picked up the little vial she found on the tabletop, turning over the tag. _Drink me_, the bottle said. She sniffed the contents, wrinkling her nose at the sharp, medicinal smell, and looked back toward the door. Light spilled over the doorway, and cool air wafted into the room through the opening. Pinching her nose shut, Alice swallowed the contents of the vial.

She coughed, and the room began to grow larger. Her clothes did not shrink with her— Alice's world became one of blue satin and white and black silks. She crawled out of it, looping an undergarment about her neck and body to form a sort of dress, and took her first steps into the world outside.

The door shut behind her, and she heard the click of the lock. Alice quietly descended a flight of stone steps, gazing about in wonder. There was a narrow dirt path in front of her, and not having anything else to do, she began to follow it. Things slithered in and out of the huge, exotic underbrush, brightly colored things with shining skin. She trembled in her thin dress, fear making her heart beat fast.

"Are you Alice?" a voice suddenly asked. She stopped sharply. On the path in front of her was the strangest party of beings she had ever seen.

There was the white rabbit she had chased, but it had been joined by a blue Dodo bird taller than she, a small dormouse with a rather vicious looking sword, and two very fat little boys whose faces seemed too small for their heads. To her relief, a normal, if very tall, man stood with them, armed with a bow and a quiver of arrows. He was clad in the most outlandish of garments: black skin-tight trousers that showed off thin, but muscular, athletic looking legs, and on his chest, an impeccably white, high-collared shirt. What caught her attention though, was his vest. It was a very fanciful vest with gold embroidering and a black backdrop, though the sides and back were jade green. Everything about him seemed to be in perfect order— from the methodical rows of his short, golden brown hair to the dangling multitudes of earrings spaced exactly a certain distance apart. It was this paragon of order that, seeking some manner of sense, Alice addressed. The rabbit looked rather put-off.

"Yes, that is my name, but… I think you are looking for another Alice," she said in barely more than a whisper.

The party blinked, and the Dormouse jumped onto a fallen log to gain some authoritative height. "McTwisp, you've brought us the _wrong Alice!_" it hissed, and drew its sword, which was a sewing needle. Alice took a hurried step back.

"No, no, no, no! I'm certain she's the right Alice, Mally! I waited so long; I followed every Alice in the country! And those two girls in the pond...! Do they _allow_ girls to do that nowadays?" McTwisp shuddered, covering his eyes. The immaculate man looked toward Alice, who returned his steady, golden gaze with her own pleading one.

"I am _certain_ this is the right Alice," he said, diverting the mouse's wrath from the harried rabbit.

"What would you know, Balthier?" it squeaked. "You just got here two weeks ago! How would you know she's the right Alice?"

"We could always bring her to Absolem. He would know." the Dodo said, advancing on her with its stick-like legs.

"Please, who are you? What do you want from me?" Alice pleaded.

"Nothing if you're not Alice!" the Dormouse snapped.

"Please, be polite!" The Rabbit burst out. "I am McTwisp. This fellow over here is the Dodo, and that rude little creature over there on the log is Mally." Mally huffed, turning her back on them and jumping into a hole in the log. "You'll have to excuse her, we've had so many failures…"

"Hey! We didn't get—"

"—to introduce ourselves!" the two fat boys cried out. "I'm Tweedle-Dee, and he's Tweedle-Dum."

"And conversely, I'm Tweedle-Dum and he's Tweedle-Dee," they said with identical grins.

"I still can't tell the difference between them." The immaculate man said with a charming smile. "The sky pirate Balthier, at your service, my lady." With a flourish, he bowed, taking her hand in his own and kissing it. The brush of his lips against the back of her hand felt like the freezing touch of falling snow, and touch of his fingers like ice; she shivered, goose bumps rising on her arms and legs. He seemed to notice, and gave her a tiny smile. "My apologies," he murmured.

"Now, if you are finished seducing the poor carbuncle, let's get a move on. I want to get her out of here." Mally said, prodding Balthier's shin with her sword. The needle scraped at his metal shin guards.

"Yes, yes, we're coming," he gave a long suffering sigh and offered her his arm like an English gentleman, and she took it, clutching to this semblance of normalcy like a lifeline.

"I was supposed to take Alice's arm—" Tweedle-Dee (or was it Tweedle-Dum?) protested.

"No! _I _was!" Tweedle-Dum (or was it Tweedle-Dee?) argued. The two boys began pushing and shoving, and Balthier shushed them irratibly.

"Why don't you _both_ take her hands?" he said, propelling Alice towards the brothers. She clung to Balthier, not caring that he winced when she tightened her grip about his frigid arm, giving him a terrified look, and he winked, patting her hand. "Don't worry— they don't bite."

The two Tweedles attempted to hold their arms out in the same way as Balthier had, turning his elegant gesture into more of a comical show. The pirate buried his face in his hands, stifling a groan, and followed as the Dodo and McTwisp led them deeper into the woods.

The scenery gradually changed from towering trees and looming bushes to bulky mushrooms. Alice gagged at the pungent scent surrounding them. Finally, they stopped in front of an especially wide mushroom with an awful lot of the pungent smoke hovering over its dome, and McTwisp cleared his throat nervously.

"Absolem, we've brought her!" he announced. "Is she the one?"

The smoke cleared, revealing a tiny blue and yellow caterpillar smoking a hookah on top of the mushroom.

"We shall see… Bring forth the Oraculum." The creature proclaimed in a voice that suggested boredom bordering annoyance. Mally vanished into the undergrowth and returned, staggering under the weight of a large scroll with silver handles.

"The Oraculum, detailing the all the important days of Underland—" Tweedle-Dee began.

"From the beginning to the end." Tweedle-Dum finished.

"That means that it can—"

"Not only tell the past—"

"But the future, too!"

"Open it." Absolem ordered, and Alice helped Mally unroll the scroll. It was very long, stretching from where they unrolled it underneath the mushroom to the toes and talons of Balthier and the Dodo, standing some ten feet away. "Show her."

"Let's see… there's where you came to Underland, twelve years ago." McTwisp said, wringing his paws.

"And there's Horunvedush Day, the day the Red Queen took control of Underland." Mally said darkly, pointing to a moving picture of several creatures fleeing a rather ridiculous figure with a large head. One picture was of a young girl with long curls, clad in armor and raising a sword to bear against a dragon that descended toward her.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Frabjous Day." Absolem remarked, crawling to the edge of his mushroom to see what she was looking at.

"The day you kill the Jabberwocky," the Dodo explained. "With the Vorpal Sword." Alice looked up at them sharply.

"I can't kill anything!" she cried, wringing her hands. "I do not know what you are expecting of me, but I am no hero. I will not go with you, and I will not kill any Jabberwockies!" Balthier went pale beneath his tan, and Tweedle-Dee looked taken aback.

"But you have to!" he said, and his brother nodded.

"_No!_" Alice exclaimed. "I don't have to anything! This is all a dream— it is _my_ dream. And I'm going to pinch myself and you are all going to go away." She shut her eyes, pinching her shoulder until she winced, and waited. When she opened her eyes, they were still there. The Tweedles looked at her expectantly, McTwisp looked ready to cry, and Balthier raised an eyebrow.

"You are not dreaming, my lady," he said quietly. "We are all quite real."

"_Talk_ to her, Absolem!" the Dodo begged, and Absolem only laughed.

"She is not hardly Alice yet. Not hardly." He vanished in a puff of smoke, and they waved it away, coughing.

"Well, if she's not Alice, no need for _her_." Mally said, twirling her sword menacingly. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum advanced on her, cheery grins belied by the fact they were saying,

"Off with Alice—"

"Off she goes!"

"Wait!" Balthier protested, attempting to shove them aside, but Mally jumped onto the Dodo's back, just in front of his face, and she waved her sword at him. He leaned back before she could put his eye out.

"_Wait_, the tip of me tail! _You_ don't know anything! She's not _Alice_!" the mouse sneered, but Balthier shook his head.

"It's not that, it's—"

At that moment, the bushes parted, admitting a large force of strangely flat soldiers completely in red armor.

"Card soldiers!" the Dodo gasped, and Mally cocked an ear.

"No," she croaked. "Something even worse."

The nearest mushroom exploded as a huge creature with white fur and black spots jumped through it. It was hideous, with enormous shoulders and a small head. Its hindquarters were disproportionate to its body, forcing the creature to move with a galumphing gait. Alice froze as the creature paused in the wreckage of the mushroom, glaring around it hatefully. Then it roared, hot breath rolling over them.

"_Bandersnatch!_" McTwisp shrieked.

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Please review!


	2. Bandersnatch Scratch

Thank you for coming back! Thanks to **ElTangoDeRoxanne** and **fallacies** for reviewing, I was very happy and did the futterwacken. In my mind. :D

Well, not to hold you up too long, on to the story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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The Bandersnatch came bounding toward them, and the creatures accompanying Alice attempted to flee. Mally slipped into a log, and the Tweedles, each spluttering in terror, jumped into a very large bush. Balthier simply smirked, stepping backward into the fog of the mushroom forest and vanishing. McTwisp and the Dodo were not so lucky. Soldiers wielding nets quickly snared the pair, dragging them away, leaving Alice to face to Bandersnatch.

She turned and ran, twigs and plant stems slapping at her legs and grasping at the hem of her dress as if begging her not to go. The ground shook with every step the Bandersnatch took behind her, an all too unpleasant reminder of how close the beast really was.

"Wait!" Alice puffed. "This is _my_ dream. Nothing can hurt me." She whirled on her toe-tips, staring at the creature with some kind of bravery rising in her eyes. The Bandersnatch hauled up short, panting, and _roared_. Its breath stank, foul air blowing Alice's hair back from her face. In the face of this new terror, she quailed.

"What are you doing? Run!" Mally shouted, leaping on top of the Bandersnatch's head and brandishing her needle heroically. She wasted no time in plunging it into one of its eyes, levering the ball clean out and hopping off its head, disappearing into the forest. The Bandersnatch reared, bellowing in pain, paws flailing. One of them scratched Alice's arm, and she hissed in pain. The pain was real, and the hot blood trickling down her arm was also real. Once again, she ran away, the Bandersnatch's screams fading into the distance.

She crashed through the forest in panic until she ran into something very solid, which gave a surprised grunt when she careened into it headlong. They both tumbled to the ground, and Alice lashed out at it in fear, sobbing.

"Alice, it's only me!" Balthier sat up and caught at her hands, and she met his eyes with her own terror-stricken gaze, collapsing into his chest. Sobs turned into full blown tears, and she cried into his shoulder. "Oh…" Balthier folded his arms about her awkwardly, rubbing her shoulders and patting her back in an attempt to comfort her. Clearly, he had little experience calming young, crying girls.

"I want to go home," she hiccupped. "I want to wake up. I don't _want_ this dream anymore." Balthier sighed.

"I don't want this dream anymore, either," he said, "But it would appear we are both stuck in the same situation. Come, what are these tears upon your face? Be strong, Princess."

"Princess?" Alice asked, glancing up at his face. She was surprised to see a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

"A slip of the tongue, excuse me," he replied, gracefully rising to his feet and helping her up, but he paused, sniffing the air. "Alice, are you _bleeding_?" he asked, and she nodded, glancing down at the scratches on her arm. "Bother, what a time for this!" Balthier examined the jagged cuts. "The Bandersnatch, was it? That be the case, this is a very special wound."

Alice hissed as his fingers glided over scratches, but relaxed as he began to whisper under his breath. His hand glowed faintly with white light, which trailed over her skin and sank into the cuts. The bleeding stopped, but the angry red color did not fade, nor did the pain stay away for long. "Why is it so special? It's just a scratch." She said.

"There is a special kind of… I do not know how to describe it, really. I think the best way would be to call it a disease. Anyway, if the Bandersnatch scratches you, the wound immediately becomes infected, and only another creature with evaporating skills can cure it. Cleanse spells don't even work." Balthier replied, reaching into one of the two pouches he wore at his sides and pulling out a small spool of bandages. He wrapped her arm gently to avoid agitating the scratches.

"Ooh! Balthy likes Alice!" Tweedle-Dee said as he emerged from a bush.

"Balthy likes Alice!" Tweedle-Dum echoed him.

"I do _not_!" Balthier snarled. "Begging your pardon, Alice, you're a nice girl, but I'm _far_ too old for you, and I already have a leading lady."

Instead of feeling intimidated by his sudden show of aggression, Alice welcomed it, tired of the false wall of emotions the people around her wore every day. "To think, I was going to be engaged today! This is turning into an adventure after all, though," she winced at the Bandersnatch scratches on her arm. "It is quite a dangerous one."

"Come on, let's get moving." Tweedle-Dee said.

"'Tis still dangerous out here!" Tweedle-Dum continued.

"This way!"

They followed the two brothers down the hill, into a forest of gnarled, twisted trees with claws for branches. There, the path diverged into a fork before a sea of thorny vines.

"We should go South."

"No! North!"

"SOUTH!" Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum began arguing again, pushing and shoving. There was a distant scream, like that of a hunting falcon.

Alice gasped as Balthier grabbed her arm and flung her to the ground, ducking down on top of her. "What are you—?" she cried. She had shrunk so small after drinking the vial's contents that he was wholly able to cover her with his body. His weight, though surprisingly very little, pressed her into the ground.

It was not a moment too soon, for a huge red, white and black striped bird swooped down, and the Tweedles saw it a moment too late. "Jub-jub Bird!" they shrieked at the same time, before it grabbed each of them by a foot and flew away.

"Wait!" Alice cried, struggling out from under Balthier and running to the edge of the fence. "Balthier, shoot them down!"

Balthier quickly drew his black bow, nocking an arrow and pulling back the string. The bow creaked under the pressure, and he released the arrow. It whistled toward the flying bird, but fell a few feet short. "Please, try again!" she begged, but he shook his head.

"They are too far away now. And even if I did hit the bird, they would fall to their deaths on the thorns below!" he said, shouldering his bow. "That bird belongs to the Red Queen, and she loves entertainment. If Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum are interesting enough, she'll spare their lives."

Alice kicked a small rock off the cliff in frustration. "Where do we go now? That bird just took our guides!"

"I've been here a while: I've stayed at least two weeks with McTwisp and the Dodo. I can get you to the Hare and the Hatter at Hare House, through Tulgey Wood. They'll know what to do." Balthier set off down the hill to the South, and Alice quickly fell in with him, not wanting to be picked off by any other manner of flying creature.

They entered into a wood of dark disposition, the black trees curling over the path, forming a sort of tunnel. Blue light filtered down through the numerous twigs and branches, and a haunting fog rolled in.

"Balthier, are there ghosts in Underland?" Alice whispered. Balthier shrugged.

"I have not seen any," he replied. She watched as his body flickered in the gloom, almost incorporeal. She fancied that if she took her eyes off him, he might disappear into thin air, never to be seen again.

"Are _you_ a ghost?" she asked. "You're cold, and you vanish."

"Is this a joke? Keep going, I love jokes," a voice purred. "He's not the one who vanishes— I am!" Balthier smiled.

"Hello, Chess," he greeted a rather large grey and electric blue-striped tabby that drifted out of the air just to his right, tucking it under the chin. The cat grinned hugely, purring, and rolled in the air as Balthier scratched its head.

"Clearly, he is not a ghost, Alice; he's giving me an absolutely _marvelous_ scratch." Chessur said.

"Speaking of scratches, the Bandersnatch got her." Balthier remarked, and Chessur made a leisurely float toward her. Alice stepped back warily.

"Don't worry, _I _don't scratch," he assured her, unwrapping the bandages with dexterous paws. "Oh yes, that looks quite nasty. I could treat it, if you like."

"No thank you," Alice whispered. "It will be fine when I wake up." The pain made it very hard to believe she was still dreaming.

"This is no dream, Alice." Balthier called from where he lounged against a tree nearby. "You had best let him purify it. If it's any incentive, that cut smells revolting to me."

"He's right, you know. And you never know when you'll get another chance." Chessur smiled wider.

"Alright," Alice conceded, and the cat purred, bending his head to lick at the cuts. She flinched as his rough tongue ran over the scratches, but with each lick, the scratches faded.

"You can heal her properly now, I think. It's a tiny little cut— Cure ought to do the trick, though I can see you've already used it." Chessur said to Balthier. "By the way, are you going to visit Hatter?"

"Yes, we were on our way just now." Balthier replied.

"Would you mind if I accompany you? It is almost teatime, and I _adore_ my tea." The cat purred.

"Chess, with the Hare and the Hatter, it is has always been teatime since the Hatter attempted to murder Time." Balthier said glumly.

"Time does not matter. Not to me, and not to you." Chessur twirled through the air, and Balthier shifted, unsettled by his remark. "The only person here that it matters to is Alice, for she has to be ready by Frabjous Day."

"I've told you, I'm not the right Alice. I can't kill the Jabberwocky on Frabjous day, no matter what the Oraculum says." Alice pleaded.

"Really now? That's a pity." Chess hummed a little song to himself as he vanished.

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Teatime in Underland, Alice decided, was a very strange affair. It involved pouring tea into shattered mugs, flinging all manners of pastries at each other, and speaking inane riddles that generally went around in circles.

"Hey, hey look! It's Alice!" Mally giggled from where she sat at the table. An agitated hare with bulging eyes brayed with raucous laughter, wringing his paws. At the end of the table, a man with flaming orange hair, ghastly white skin, and a rather ridiculous bow tie perked up.

"Alice!" he exclaimed, standing up and walking over the table, upsetting teacups and crushing platters.

"Hey! Watch it!" Mally protested.

"Well, Tarrant? You've seen Alice the most. Is this the right one?" The cat rolled out of the air next to the Hatter's ear, caressing his hat. The Hatter got down on one knee, and Alice blinked, unnerved by having his face so close.

"Oh yes, it is. I would recognize him anywhere!" Tarrant looked over his shoulder at Chessur and Balthier. "A bit smaller than I remember, but I would recognize him anywhere!"

"Fantastic," Balthier said, seating himself at the table next to Chessur and selecting a clean mug.

"Now then, Alice m'dear, _why_ is a raven like a writing desk?" he asked. Mally and the March Hare giggled. Alice narrowed her eyes.

"You're mad!" she exclaimed.

"Perhaps," the Hatter said, taking her hand and leading her to the table, "but it is amazing how madness and ingenuity coincide." He ignored Balthier as the man sprayed tea everywhere. The Hare pounded him on the back. "And now, to business. Frabjous Day!"

He was interrupted by the sound of a barking dog, and his eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Alice, but it appears that Time always has the worst sense of humor." He forced a tiny amount of pishsalver down her throat, and Alice coughed, shrinking further. She gasped as he grabbed her, fingers closing around her body, and stuffed her into the teapot, closing the lid.

"Let me out!" she begged, pounding on the white porcelain walls, but he covered the spout, muffling her voice.

"It's the Knave and some Card Soldiers." Tarrant whispered to her, but even the whisper sounded like a booming cannon inside the teapot. "Be very, very quiet, or we shall all be caught, and the jig will be up."

"Now then," a very arrogant voice said, and Alice shivered. His voice was the oily, cool kind of voice she imagined a serpent would have. She could not see the Knave, but she already did not like him. "If it isn't my favorite band of lunatics!"

The March Hare screamed rather loudly, and there was the sound of shattering crockery. Alice covered her eyes, hoping no one was hurt. The Hatter and Mally began to laugh, and the teapot jiggled.

"Have you seen a little slip of a girl named Alice anywhere, Hightopp? If you have, and you hand her over, the Queen will surely pardon you for killing Time," the unpleasant voice continued pleasantly.

"Alice? I haven't seen the wee lad for an age," said the Hatter. Alice froze. He was lying.

"I see you have a new companion at your table. What is your name…?"

"Balthier, the storyteller." Balthier said silkily.

"Have _you_ seen Alice?"

"Never in my life. Hm? What's that? Of course _you_ haven't seen her either, you sodding fool! If I haven't seen her, how can you have?" Balthier's voice rose as he argued.

"Pull yourself together, man! There's no one behind your left shoulder! I can see why you have fallen in with these lunatics! You're raving yourself!" the Knave shouted.

"Oh, but you'll find in the end, that 'twas not I who was mad, it was you." Balthier purred dangerously, and there was the sound of rasping metal. Alice held her breath as the silence stretched ominously. How she _did_ wish she was not inside a teapot!

The teapot jiggled again, and she heard Tarrant give a little "Oh!" The hot breath of a dog filled the teapot, and she thought she would die of the stench.

"_Downal wyth Bluddy Behg Hid!_" Alice heard the Hatter whisper, and the snuffing sound of the dog's nose vanished. With a yelp and a skitter, the dog ran into the distance, and there was a clatter as the Card Soldiers took off in pursuit.

"If the Queen or I find out that _any_ of you have been harboring Alice, then it's to the chopping block with you," the Knave threatened. Moments later, there was the thunderous gallop of a racing horse.

The lid of the teapot opened, and the Hatter peered in. Alice buried herself under her undergarments, which were far too big, and Tarrant chuckled.

"Excuse me!" he exclaimed. "How about we fix that?" His huge fingers groped inside the teapot until he found the cloth, and Alice squeezed herself against the wall to keep from getting crushed. After a few minutes of listening to the snip of scissors and the snick of needles, the lid opened again, and he handed down a little blue dress that was quite fanciful in design. "Try that."

Alice slipped into the dress, looking down at herself, then tapped the lid of the teapot. "It looks lovely, Hatter." She said, smiling, and he grinned in return, reaching in and putting her on the table.

"Fetching." Balthier commented as he sipped his tea, and she ran down the table, carefully avoiding squashed scones and fruit.

"You are alive!" she gasped, hugging his wrist, which was the only part of him she could wrap her arms around. "I heard him draw his sword, and I thought he cut off your head."

"Of course not." He raised an eyebrow. "I did not make the Knave _that_ angry. Knaves aside, I think you should be reacquainted with the Hatter. He lied to protect you, you know."

Alice looked back toward Tarrant, who looked at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry, Hatter. I can't kill the Jabberwocky. I can't kill anything even if I wanted to!" she said, her voice cracking. She was tired, lost, and shrunken, she had just been shoved into a teapot, and now these people expected her to slay a dragon for them?

"Can't kill anything, can ye?" the Hatter said coolly. "We'll see about that. Come. There is something I want to show you." He removed his top hat, and she looked at him uncertainly. "Up you get! There's no more comfortable way than travelling by hat!"

"Oh, oh! I _love_ travelling by hat! Might I come, too?" Mally asked, but Tarrant shook his head.

"Not today, darling. Alice only today."

The Hatter placed his hat, now with Alice riding on the brim, back on his head, and wandered away into the foggy forest.

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Huala! Huala!


	3. The Big Head

Thanks to **ElTangoDeRoxanne** and **fallacies**! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The Hatter walked quickly through the autumn woods, his feet crunching loudly on the dry leaves. As they went, he recited a poem, his voice strange and vaguely not his own.

'_Twas brillig and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe._

"_Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
The jaws that bite, the claws that  
catch!  
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
The frumious Bandersnatch!_

Alice swung from the brim of his hat gaily, maneuvering until she could safely drop down onto his shoulder. "Why, it's all the animals the Red Queen sent!" she exclaimed. Tarrant nodded and continued his poem.

_And, as in uffish thought he stood,  
The Jabberwock with eyes of flame,  
Came whiffling through the Tulgey Wood,  
And burbled as it came!_

_One, two! One, two! And through and through  
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!  
He left it dead, and with its head  
He went galumphing back._

"It's about you, you know," he said when he finished. "It's about how you slay the Jabberwocky."

"How many times do I have to tell you? I can't slay _anything._" Alice said, bracing herself against his ear as he hopped over a fallen log.

"Perhaps this place will change your mind, then." He strode to the center of the clearing that opened up before them. On one side was the charred remains of an old house, and all around was the crumbling remains of houses and shacks. Alice clung to his ear, staring at the desolation.

"Hatter, what happened here?" she whispered.

"We were celebrating at a festival, when out of the dark of the night it came. I'm talking about the Jabberwocky, of course. The knights were incinerated, and the children, too. The children! The _children_!" his voice rose desperately, and Alice grabbed his hand, fearing he might crush her in his agonizing recollection of that horrible night.

"Hatter!" she cried. He gulped, staring down at her with wide green eyes.

"Sorry," he said in a very tiny voice.

"What happened next?" Alice asked curiously, her face the one of a child who had just been rudely jerked from an enrapturing story.

"The Knave took it, the Vorpal Sword, the only blade that can kill the Jabberwocky. Of course, if the sword is not Vorpal, the Jabberwock is not dead. When I woke up from where I had been thrown, I found that the White Queen had been banished to her castle in Marmoreal, and thus, the Red Queen took control of Underland." The Hatter finished. Alice stroked his finger, and was surprised when he withdrew it.

"You're different than you used to be, Alice. You used to be so much… much… _mucher_." Tarrant sighed. "You've lost your muchness."

"Muchness?" Alice asked, laughing. "What can you mean? I've not lost anything that I know of!"

"It is not something you can see, muchness. But you can tell when someone's lost it— it's in here." Tarrant prodded her chest, though it was much more like he prodded her entire stomach.

Alice looked up at him sadly. "Hatter, whatever shall we do?"

"I don't know. If you're not Alice, then who are you? Perhaps I will help you find out… we'll find out who you are soon enough, 'Not Alice'. Get rid of the Red Queen, that's what we'll do! We'll—"

There was the sound of a dog barking once more. Tarrant cursed, grabbing Alice and ignoring her gasp as he nearly crushed her in his hand. "Hurry, you must away from this place. It won't do for you to be caught here! Now, hang on!" He put her on the brim of his top hat and began to run. Card Soldiers crashed through the sunny woods on all sides of them, and finally, he made it to the river. There, he removed his hat. "I suggest you do not let go. Don't worry now, I will find you." Tarrant flung it with all his might. The hat flew across the river, whirling like a Frisbee, and Alice closed her eyes against the wave of nausea assaulting her senses at the landscape spun by.

"_Down with the Red Queen!_" Tarrant roared, and the hat Alice rode thumped down on the other side of the river just in time for her to see the red Card Soldiers surround him and escort him away.

"Hatter!" she cried, running to the edge of the river, but she was too small to ford the rushing waters, and her voice too quiet to carry to him. A cold wind blew monstrously huge dead leaves at her, and things scuttled and hissed around her. Shivering and sobbing, Alice retreated under the hat, and nursing her grief, fell fast asleep.

* * *

Several hours later, she awakened to the sound of light footsteps scuffing the leaves. Large, slim fingers, each encircled with a band of colored glass, slid under the hat's brim, lifting it away.

"Didn't I say I smelt her over here?"

"Balthier!" Alice cried, for that was indeed who had found her. "They've taken the Hatter!"

"I know." Balthier said grimly, crouching down to her level. "However, I think that the Resistance is safe. Hatter is mad enough that he won't say a thing that makes sense."

"What will they _do_ to him?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"I am afraid they will do all the usual things tyrannical despots do to rebel prisoners: condemn him to the rack and torture him until he tells them what they want. Either way, the end of all roads leads to the chopping block." He replied.

"We must save him! Tarrant is risking his life for the people he loves, and I must do no less for him!" Alice said firmly. "You _must_ know where the Red Queen's castle is. All of the people in Underland probably do."

"You must not go. You're not ready, you're not strong enough! It is to Marmoreal we should flee, and seek the White Queen's aid. Mirana is partial to the Hatter— she can send help." Balthier replied. Alice climbed up one of his legs, using his shin guard for handholds, and perched on his knee so she could look him in the eye.

"I am going to rescue the Hatter, whether you are coming or not. Now tell me where her castle is."

He studied her with his intense gaze, and Alice found herself feeling as if he were ripping her apart with his eyes, examining all the pieces.

"You've changed in the last two hours since I have seen you last. You're much more…" he trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Mucher? Have I regained my muchness?" Alice asked, smiling. Balthier ran a hand through his close cut hair.

"I was going to say courageous but I suppose 'mucher' works." he said, then paused, glancing up at something behind her. "Hm? I can't hear you. Speak up, and one at a time."

"Balthier? There's no one there." Alice said, but he held up a finger, shushing her.

"The Queen's palace, you say? Oh yes, I remember now." His eyes snapped back on her. "The Red Queen lives in the land of Crims, at Salazen Grum." He said. "And you will not be going alone— I shall accompany you, for free, of course. What?" Balthier's voice turned plaintive, and his eyes wandered away from Alice to focus on something behind her again. "Of course I'm not going to ask for payment! It is bad policy, and she's got nothing of value."

"Balthier!" Alice stomped viciously on his knee, and he snatched at her, swearing.

"Gods! If you're going to do that, I'm putting you up here," he set her on his shoulder, and took off at a trot to the East, twirling Tarrant's hat upon his finger.

* * *

Alice sat on Balthier's shoulder quietly for most of the journey, drifting in and out of sleep. It took three days to get to Salazen Grum, and she was amazed at the pace he set. He traveled on, all through the night without flagging, and well into the next day too, before he stopped to rest just on the inside of the mountains ringing the Queen's Palace, under an outcropping of rocks. It was high noon, and the sun blazed down outside. Alice paced back and forth like an angry Bandersnatch as he dozed, curled up as far away from the sunlight as possible. She glared at the Castle that filled the horizon, the one that had eaten so many of her friends.

"So you said I have lost my muchness, have I, Hatter? Well, I will show you how much muchness I can have!" she scowled.

When the sun rose the next day, Alice climbed Balthier's shoulder. It was a feat worthy of remembrance by mountaineers in England, she felt, ascending first the rocks and then his shoulder, but she knew no one would ever know of her triumph. She tugged one of his earrings to wake him up, and he jerked his head away from her irratibly.

"What's this, Princess? Is ripping my ears off a new…" Balthier trailed off as he focused on her blearily. He blinked.

"Princess? For the last time, Balthier, who are you talking to?" Alice asked as he climbed to his feet and slid down the rocky ledge into Salazen Grum.

"_No one_." He snarled, and she fell silent as if struck. She did not know why it hurt so much when he lashed out this time. She hardly knew him, not then, when she had first come into Underland, and not now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment as he slunk through some scraggly bushes growing on the edge of the Red Queen's steaming moat. "I should not have said it that way."

Alice remained silent, letting him stew.

"I am three and a half centuries old, Alice. Give an old man some respite," Balthier pleaded, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She looked away, refusing to give him any inch, though inside, she was surprised. "I can see that we are simply business partners. I do not know why you have accompanied me this far, but as soon as we are done here, our business is at an end," she said coldly.

"Regained your muchness, indeed," he murmured, gathering himself together like a cat ready to spring and clearing the moat with a leap and a bound. Once again, she did not deign to answer him, and with a sigh, he removed his bow and shot an arrow trailing a rope into a small hole several feet below the parapet, tugging on it to make sure it was secure. Then he began to climb, darting over the ramparts before he was spotted by the Queen and her guards below. He hid behind a hedge, which was tall enough for him to stand behind without being seen.

* * *

The Red Queen was not that imposing of a figure, the only intimidating part of her being the large size of her head and her flaming mane of heart-shaped red hair. In her hands, she held a flamingo by the claws. For her ball, she used a hedgehog with its feet bound, forcing it to curl up into a ball. At her back stood the Dodo, decked out in her colors and serving as a caddy. Alice felt her heart shrivel in sorrow for him.

The Queen swung, the flamingo's head connecting with the hedgehog and sending it flying toward them. Alice hid behind Balthier's leg as the hedgehog rolled by, narrowly missing them. "Page!" the Red Queen bellowed in a pompous voice. McTwisp, sniveling slightly, stepped forward, wearing a huge Elizabethan ruff and heart covered tabard. "Retrieve my ball!"

"Yes, your majesty!" McTwisp gave a hurried bow and dashed away from her as fast as possible, almost running headlong into Alice in his haste.

"Alice!" he whispered, pink eyes wide with wonder. "How did you get here?"

"Balthier brought me," Alice said, and the White Rabbit's gaze darted toward him.

"All the way from Absolem's mushroom?"

"We had tea with the Hatter, and left from Hare House." Balthier explained. "We came to save him."

"_Page!_" the Red Queen yelled. "_Where's my ball?_"

"Er, coming, your Majesty!" McTwisp answered. "Alice, I must go, or else she will suspect—"

"McTwisp, do you have any of that cake that makes one grow?" Alice asked. McTwisp looked taken aback.

"But of course!" he fished about in his tabard and handed her a tiny cake. She took two bites before he burst out in a panic. "Wait! Just one bite is enough to—!"

"_PAGE!_" The Queen shrieked, marching up to the hedge, just as Alice grew so tall she towered over the top of it. "Well, Page? Who is she?" she twirled her flamingo croquet stick imperiously.

"Well— I— she— um—" the rabbit spluttered, and Alice stepped in to his rescue.

"My name is Um, from Umbridge," she said humbly. At her side, Balthier took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He stepped out from behind the hedge and gave the Queen a courtly bow, and she smiled as soon as she saw him.

"My lady, do not be misled. This is no Um from Umbridge," he said. Alice looked at him, horrified, as he continued.

"Your Majesty Iracebeth, I deliver to you Alice Kingsleigh, just as requested."

* * *

What's this!


	4. Twice Crossed

Thanks to **emeraldonyxdragon**, who I am especially glad that you have continued reading this even though you are not an Alice in Wonderland fan. It really means a lot to me that you're sticking with this. And also, thanks to **ElTangoDeRoxanne**, who helps me when I am indecisive, and **fallacies**.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Balthier! What are you doing?" Alice hissed, not believing what she had just heard. A Card Soldier clamped chains about her hands and hobbles about her feet, adjusting the cuffs to accommodate her large ankles and wrists.

"Helping the person I love," he said cynically, looking up at her with hard, silver eyes. Alice blinked— she was sure they had been gold!

"And help her you shall, for I do not let good deeds go unrewarded," the Red Queen held out her hand, and Balthier, on one knee, kissed her ring. "You may rise!"

"My lady, we had an agreement. I would bring you Alice, and you would release Fran. I am expecting you to honor that pact."

"Don't worry your handsome face over it," the Queen dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I'll give her back after Alice's execution."

"You are most kind." Balthier bowed.

"How could you do this? I _trusted_ you, you heartless wretch! You _betrayed_ me!" Alice jerked her hands from the grasp of the two soldiers holding them. They made to grab her again, but Iracebeth held up a finger.

"I want to see this," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Your words are more true than you could ever imagine, for heartless I am indeed, in every meaning of the word," Balthier purred. "And as for your charges of betrayal? I never betrayed you, Alice; I was never your ally. As you said— we are _business partners._ I am a pirate, and I look ever and always to my own profit."

The Red Queen wiped fake tears away. "I could not have said it better myself," she said with feigned emotion. "Now take Alice 'Um' Kingsleigh and lock her away. In two days' time, we will have a _public_ execution!"

"Two days?" McTwisp asked. "Why two days?"

"I imagine all of you would like to say goodbye. I want her to see her friend's faces and weep because she will _never see them again_." Iracebeth said wickedly.

As Alice was led away, Balthier called out to her one more time.

"Oh, and Alice?" she turned, giving him the most heated gaze she could muster. He lounged against a solid hedge, his strangely silver eyes hooded languidly, but glinting with chilling malice. He reminded her of a cat— no, not a cat. Chessur was not as poisonous as this. He did not have the sharpness or the teeth to with which to bite and rip into her soul. Balthier was a serpent that had slithered next to her and whispered sweet words to her from under the flowers, and when she had reached with her hands to see the speaker, he had sunk his fangs deep inside. "Do you remember when you asked me to shoot down the Jub-jub Bird?" he continued.

"What of it?" she narrowed her eyes, and conversely, his grin widened cruelly.

"I never miss. Not on accident."

"You could have hit the Jub-jub Bird," Alice whispered in understanding. "You were against me from the start."

* * *

Iracebeth of Crims had been thoughtful enough to put Alice in a cell with the Mad Hatter, though Alice suspected the Queen thought she was being punishing rather than kind. What a twisted being she was, and such twisted beings she had surrounded herself with.

"Why is it that whenever I see you, you are always too small or too tall? So, it is Balthier that has condemned us to the executioner's blade, eh?" Tarrant stroked his white chin. "I can't say that was entirely unexpected."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked. "He had fooled me entirely, even unto the end."

"Do you remember what I told you about muchness?" The Hatter asked as he climbed to his feet.

"You said it was not something that one could see, but easy to tell if lost. Are you saying…?"

"Yes, I am saying I think he has lost his muchness, too. It has not really affected him like it has you. It hasn't really made him _less_ than he really is, but I think it's done strange things to his mind." Tarrant said, as if he was one to lecture about losing minds.

"I noticed. He calls me Princess sometimes, and talks to someone I cannot see. Multiple people, actually." Alice said sourly.

"Ghosts, perhaps?" the Hatter cocked his head.

"Perhaps. Let us stop talking about him— thinking of him ruins the joy I feel at finding you sound, if not safe."

"For the moment, at least." Tarrant said quietly. "Alice, the Knave tried to torture me. He tried to get me to tell where you were. But I didn't say anything. I said nothing, nothing, not a word! Ha, you'll have to try harder than that, Illosovic Stayne! You'll never force me to—!"

"Hatter!" Alice grabbed his shoulders. "It's alright. You're here, not a head floating in the Queen's horrid moat. We still have a chance."

"No, Alice. You don't understand," the Mad Hatter croaked. "You're here, locked in the dungeon. You're the only _one_ who can kill the Jabberwocky and end this oppressive reign. And the Vorpal sword is locked away somewhere here, too— the only _thing_ that the only_ one_ who can kill the Jabberwocky can use. Frabjous Day is coming, and Mirana of Marmoreal, without her champion, will be the next one to lose her head."

He stopped speaking at the sound of footsteps and someone talking. Alice felt her blood curdle in disgust.

"Leave me alone. I've had quite enough of you— and you, too. Hm? Are all of you turning against me, now? This is mutiny!" Balthier strode down the prison corridor. The prisoners cowered in the backs of their cells as he passed, and soon, Tarrant and Alice saw why.

There was blood on his face, mostly on his lips and chin, though there was a smear of it on his right cheekbone. There were a few stains on the front of his vest, which was white with elaborate red hearts, and his sleeves were torn and soaked through with the black and red liquid. His eyes, still inhumanly cold and silver as moonlight, roved in every direction, sometimes focusing just to his right, then shifting to something in the upper left field of his vision. Suddenly, he stopped and whirled to his left.

"I know that it's amoral! But do I _care_?" Balthier snapped. "Until you have _lived_ and _breathed_ in my dark double-dealings, as you call them, and have partaken of the filth until the very _corruption_ of humanity runs in your veins like it does in mine, you have no right to be chastising me like a mother hen! What? Oh, I see. Bully for you— now get you _gone._"

He stopped in the middle of his angry speech and stared about with confused, shadowed eyes. "Hm…? They're gone…" he rubbed his forehead, shutting his eyes and breathing hard. "Not again… not again…" He ran for a flight of stairs leading deeper into the prison, and the last Alice heard from him was a name, so quiet it could easily have been mistaken for a breath of wind that swirled in his wake as he rushed by her.

"_Fran._"

* * *

"He's quite insane, you know." Chessur purred as Alice stroked his large, tabby head.

"Oh, yes." The Hatter agreed.

"Positively barking."

"Absolutely."

"Madder than the Mad Hatter."

"_No!_" Tarrant gasped. "I'm not mad, far from it. I offered to make the Red Queen hats, true, and I started, but— but! I had other intentions. I wanted—oh, how I _wanted!_ I wanted to _murder _her! But I didn't Alice, and I had the perfect chance! Alice, what is the _hatter_ with me? I don't want to believe it, but have I truly gone mad?"

Alice patted his head, seeing as she was now tall enough to use him as an armrest. "Oh yes, certifiable, round the bend." Tarrant's face fell, and she took him by the shoulders. "But I will tell you a secret: all the best people are."

Chessur gave her a wide, snaggle-toothed grin. "Take that as a comment, Tarrant. By the way, I heard you lot are going to be executed."

"Two days." Alice said quietly. "The Queen wanted to give us time to say our goodbyes."

"She's quite pleased with herself. She is considering replacing the Knave with Balthier. The only thing that's stopping her is that she absolutely _adores_ Stayne to no end." Chess rolled in the air to allow Alice to scratch just behind his ear, his face one of rapturous bliss. "They are both terribly talented men, of course, but Balthier is much more subtle— and we have now all experienced how deep his poison can penetrate before it is detected. In fact, he has even succeeded where Stayne failed. You're here, about to be executed."

"I do not need to be reminded." Alice said glumly.

"But that _does_ remind me. I do _so_ love your hat, Tarrant. Perhaps you would consider bequeathing it to me?" Chess vanished, reappearing behind the Hatter.

"No! It's my hat. And I would like to go out looking my best." Tarrant grasped his top hat closer.

"But I would wear it to all the _best_ occasions! Come now, will you not reconsider?"

"The _best_ occasions, you say?" Tarrant grinned malevolently, tapping the top of his hat pensively. Alice recognized the amber glint in his neon green eyes.

"What are you thinking, Hatter?" she asked, a smile forming on her own face. Suddenly, his eyes darted behind her, and he adopted an expression of fear, though the blazing orange of his eyes deepened. The Cheshire Cat flattened his ears against his head and disappeared.

"Nothing, nothing at all!" he stammered, and Alice whirled.

"Why are you here?" she whispered, fire burning in her stomach. Balthier was fumbling with the lock, in a state of extreme agitation. His hair, normally in perfect rows, had been tousled by the run of his nervous hands. His face was not cleaned of the blood, nor had he changed his vest.

"Alice— Alice! I'm sorry— I should not have brought you here," he gulped as he slid two thin pieces of metal into the keyhole and began picking the lock. "I never should have taken her offer. Gods, if only I knew what I was getting into…" he wiped the blood off his cheek with a sweat-slicked hand, gazing at it with an expression akin to horror. "I killed a little girl today, Alice. She was six years old. The Queen was torturing me… she was trying to find out why Fran was so important. I wasn't going to tell— it's so important, she mustn't know… Stayne cut my wrists and bled me dry. And then he put the child there in the same room…" Balthier looked wildly about him. "Stop touching me."

In an instant, the Hatter was at the bars. His hand snaked through the holes in the grate and caught the pirate about the throat. The lock picking materials clattered to the floor.

"Ye have no right to be talkin' to her, ye bloody fake toff," he drawled, voice harsh. "Ye can talk to me, though I'm not feelin' rather inclined to listen."

"Go ahead. Do it. Kill me. I don't care." Balthier wheezed. The Hatter's grip tightened.

"Ye filthy lit'l _weasel_. Fight back! Fight, I dare you!" Tarrant snarled. Balthier's breath came in explosive gasps, but he did not lift a finger to remove Tarrant's hand.

"I can't," he said, in a voice that was almost a sob. "I can't hurt you. You remind me too much of _him_."

Tarrant's eyes narrowed. "Who? Who are you talking about, or in the name of Mirana I shall kill you now!"

"It doesn't matter, but you look just like him. Spitting image of an old friend of mine, just a little more pale. Oh… Highness, please, don't _torture_ me anymore, I can't stand it. I'm trying to make things _right_, don't you see?" Balthier's eyes were locked on something just over Alice's head. Just as she expected, there was nothing there. "Ashe… you were right about me. Three hundred years has made me cruel if I've fallen this low."

With a snort of disgust, Tarrant released him. His eyes faded back to their bright green, and he sighed. "I can't do it."

"I didn't think you could." Balthier gasped, picking up his lock picks and setting back to work.

"Why are you freeing us? It is your fault we are here in the first place." Alice said, and he winced at her jab.

He jiggled the lock picks impatiently. "I have been betrayed. That fox Iracebeth does not intend to honor our agreement."

"The agreement where you would give her me and she would return your Fran to you?" Alice asked, grasping the bars.

"That was the contract, yes, but when I went to tell Fran I turned you in, she was _gone_! I followed the scent— they moved her to a much more secure dungeon. The guards were talking amongst themselves: Iracebeth intends to execute Fran with you." With a snap, the lock picks broke. His hands were shaking too much to pick efficiently.

"I thought I should warn you; Underland locks are more difficult than they look." Chessur said, gliding in lazy circles around Balthier's head. The pirate growled something uncouth under his breath and spoke a short string of words in a hissing, sibilant tongue, tracing a pattern on the lock face with his finger. In a matter of seconds, ice and frost formed on the lock, and he jerked the entire thing off. The door swung open. At the same time, so did the dungeon gate.

* * *

Illosovic Stayne, the Knave of Hearts, strolled into the prison block, an arrogant grin on his face. Balthier, already extremely distraught and anxious, paled, no doubt remembering their last encounter in the torture chamber. Tarrant, who had also experienced Stayne's hospitality, laughed nervously, a high-pitched twitter.

"I've caught you at last, Balthier Sky Pirate. I have the condemning evidence. The loyal Balthier, betraying his Queen!" Stayne laughed. Balthier took a deep breath, seeming to gather himself together, and when he opened his eyes once more, he seemed to have found something of his old self.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We were business partners, nothing more," he said haughtily. "I have betrayed no one."

"That excuse is getting old. You released the prisoners. You've double-crossed her."

"An eye for an eye. She refused to give me Fran, and I can take Alice away again."

"That depends on if I will allow you to take me away." Alice said coldly, using her height to attempt cowing the pirate into submission. "What reasons have I to trust you? You have already broken that trust once."

"It seems the spider has caught itself in its own web!" Stayne laughed again, and Balthier turned to her, looking up to meet her eyes.

"Alice, I apologize for my actions earlier— there was no other way. You are looking at a man at his wit's end. You have no reason to trust me, I understand, but I'm trying to make it up to you."

"So you do have a conscience, though it seems to be no more than a speck." Alice said quietly, tapping her chin. Balthier inclined his head.

"I sometimes wish I did not."

"You can redeem yourself by helping me get the Vorpal Sword. You have been in the Palace for a while, even before we met, I assume. You must know where it is."

Balthier's eyes wandered away from her, and he frowned. Alice snapped his fingers in front of his face, calling his attention back from the phantoms he constantly did battle with in his mind.

"I know where the Vorpal Sword is," he admitted at last. "And I have the means of retrieving it. It was Fran's last gift to me before the Red Queen moved her."

"And do you think I will really stand by while you three plot to steal the only means with which to kill the Queen's beloved Jabberwock?" the Knave scoffed, drawing his sword. "I think not."

Balthier's demeanor changed, his hesitance and tension replaced with cold steel and a serpent's venomous grin. He held his wrist up to his face, licking away the thin crust of blood that had accumulated over the deep cuts the Knave had put there. "I was hoping you'd say that, Illosovic Stayne."

* * *

Smash.


	5. Ghosts of the Past

Thanks for reviewing, **ElTangoDeRoxanne **and **fallacies**. fallacies caught onto my plot to take over the world very quickly!

This chapter is dedicated to my goldfish, aptly named Goldy, who passed away during the night. He was at least 10 years old. Rest in peace. I hope my one remaining goldfish (who I think is 11 years old) will not fall victim to my cat.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

They circled each other, each step sure and unfaltering. Stayne smiled, the expression wrinkling his scarred face.

"Interesting how quickly you escaped the special dungeon I made for you. So, what is your plan now, Balthier? Are you going to take Alice to the Sword and steal it away from her?"

Alice watched Balthier's face carefully; searching for any tells that would reveal what ran through his maddened, fevered mind. Not one of his facial muscles twitched, nor did his eyes flicker. He answered the Knave's question with one of his own.

"Why does Iracebeth want to kill Fran? Jealousy, perhaps?"

"How would I know what lies in that fickle woman's heart?" Stayne snorted. "I know what you are. When my sword slices your head off, don't think you can play dead." He easily vaulted over a low tabletop, straight sword swinging. Almost belatedly, Balthier seemed to realize that his weapons had been confiscated when he had entered the prison earlier, simultaneously consoling himself that a bow and arrow could do much good in the confined space.

If the sky pirate had a sense of fair play, Alice decided it was almost equally as nonexistent as his conscience. As it was, any of the rules of fair engagement went out the window. He bit down on his cut wrists with teeth that seemed fantastically sharp for a human to possess, reopening the wounds. Balthier flicked his hand at Stayne's face, blinding him with the fresh-flowing blood. The Knave yelped, scrubbing at his eye with his free hand, and the pirate kneed him in the groin. Stayne gave a squealing whimper, collapsing to the ground.

Truly, Hamish would have been scandalized had he seen Balthier in action, Alice thought wickedly.

Tarrant jumped on top of Stayne's chest and held him down.

"Balthier, take Alice and run. Go get the Vorpal Sword, hurry!" he said.

"But what about you? I won't leave you behind!" Alice said, grabbing for his hand, but he shook his head.

"If you leave him here, he'll raise the alarm. Go, Balthier. I'll take care of Fran for you. I do not intend on being executed tomorrow, and I am sure that she does not either."

Balthier took a deep breath, massaging his temples, biting his lip. "Very well, Hatter. My life is in your hands. Considering my actions of late, I know I should not ask for this, but please: do not let me down, I beg of you."

Tarrant smiled, turning back to Stayne and punching him in the face when he began to recover from the assault on his manhood.

"Go!"

* * *

Balthier padded up to the dungeon gate, whispering something Alice could not understand in soothing tones. When he opened the door, the guards on either side were fast asleep, snoring blissfully. Quickly grabbing his bow and quiver from the wall, he motioned for her to follow him through the castle. Alice grabbed his hand, grimacing as her fingers slipped against his sticky palms, and gestured to his face. He blinked, then nodded his understanding, wiping the blood from his last gristly meal from his lips. It would not do to attract unwanted attention. His eyes lit up, and he quickly relieved the snoozing guards of a set of handcuffs, latching them around her wrists but neglecting to lock them.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Alibi. We can say I am escorting you to see the Queen," Balthier answered in equally hushed tones, before turning away and stalking soundlessly down the hall. Alice followed slightly more loudly, unaccustomed to towering over Balthier the way he had towered over her when they first met. She felt unaccustomed to many of the ways things had changed since they'd first met. Especially his unexpected cruel streak.

When a troop of Card Soldiers rattled down the hall, Balthier grabbed her arms tightly with his icy hands and nodded to them as they went by. After the soldiers departed, they scurried across the hall.

"Of course I trust the Hatter, you bloody idiot!" Balthier suddenly said, and Alice stopped short.

"Excuse me?" she looked at him incredulously, and he stared back, confused.

"Pardon me, I was not talking to you," he said, turning back to something about her waist height. "By the gods and scions, boy, are you going to tell me or not? Oh? The cards? No, the cards never lie. Quiet!" Balthier put a hand out behind him. Alice took it, pulling him back before he could sneak across the next corridor.

"Balthier, please, for the last time, and for not only your sake, but mine, who is it that you speak to? I think you would find yourself much relieved if you told me," she whispered, cupping his chin in her palm and forcing him to meet her eyes. His unnatural, bright silver gaze bored into her, and she found herself under the impression that, rather than seeing into his soul as she thought she could, he was seeing into hers. He sighed, not bothering to remove her hand, though he touched it delicately with his own.

"Fran says I have gone mad. Humes are not supposed to live as long as I have, and," he grimaced. "Apparently, it runs in the family. How can she understand? These people I see, these voices I hear— they're actually _there_. But whenever she comes near, they're gone."

"So what you say is not all lies. You really are three-hundred-fifty years old." Alice whispered.

"Three-hundred-forty-seven, to be exact, but what is three years between a century?"

"What you see, they are ghosts?"

"I… I don't know." His eyes slid toward Alice's waist again. "Don't worry, Ratsbane, I'll carve that doctor up. He lied to her, right? I haven't found his bones yet, but they cannot shake me if I have gotten the scent. It's old, though. Two-hundred years old. It's gone."

She snapped her fingers in front of his face. His eyes locked back onto hers, and she was reminded of staring into the eyes of one of the ridiculously large cats in the zoo. Pride, scorn, anger, but just underneath, a hint of fear, adding to the wild tidal wave that threatened to break from his small frame. He quivered under her large hands.

"Balthier, there is no one here to 'carve up', as you might put it. These ghosts you see— wherever you come from, it is not Underland, is it? You can do nothing for them here. But you can save yourself from pursuit by hundreds more souls from Underland that you'll never shake— take me to the Vorpal Sword, and help me free Underland from the Queen's oppression. That's what we were doing, remember?" she played gently off what she hoped was his fears, and he did not disappoint.

The quivering stilled, and he squared his shoulders. "Of course. Hurry, the courtyard is where it is kept, but you will not like the guard."

* * *

The healed scratches on Alice's shoulder twinged in memory of what the Bandersnatch had done to her, and even Balthier looked on warily. "In there?" she whispered, looking toward a small hut in the center of the courtyard. They could see the outline of the hideously huge Bandersnatch through the window.

He nodded. "It bears the scent of cold steel and magick so pure it could reduce those of the dark to ashes, a fitting blade to sever the head of Underland's worst enemy. I shall distract the Bandersnatch— you get the sword."

Alice looked back at him, but he was on his hands and knees, sides heaving and coughing, sounding much like a cat attempting to dislodge a hairball. His coughs had a strange, musical quality to them.

"Balthier?" she knelt as he wheezed unhealthily, and eventually, he raised a hand and slammed it forcefully into his stomach. There was a pop and a metallic tinkle— a small, silvery flute dropped out of his mouth and onto the cobblestone courtyard floor. Alice eyed it much like Hamish would eye a blue caterpillar. "Was that where I think it was?"

"Meaning anywhere between my stomach and esophagus? Yes. This flute saved my life from the noose many times, and it saved me just today." Balthier replied cheerfully. "Shall we?"

Alice led the way, sliding the door open and peering inside, slipping off the handcuffs as she went. The Bandersnatch was sleeping fitfully on a thin bed of straw. When it curled its paws, sharp claws sprang out. Balthier twitched next to her, his grip tightening about the silver flute.

Unheeding of her danger, Alice crept into the pen, the pirate keeping watch outside. There, in the back of the hut, under a blanket, was the chest— but it was locked. She looked toward the pirate, shaking the lock, but he shook his head. _Impervious to Magick_, he mouthed, and she sighed.

The Bandersnatch stirred, a rumbling growl escaping from between its teeth. Alice tensed as the beast began to haul itself laboriously to its feet, snapping and snarling at the intruders to its domain.

Balthier began to play. The sweet sound of the tiny flute rang quiet but clear through the hut, and the Bandersnatch calmed instantly, its growling fading to a quiet groan. Cautiously, Balthier stole toward it, hand outstretched while the other continued playing. He stroked his hand down the side of its head, his fingers slipping down its collar. It growled thunderously, but his fingers did not falter on the flute. Alice watched as he trailed his fingers about its empty eye socket, drumming out a faint tattoo laced with the sparks of healing magick. The Bandersnatch snorted, leaning into his hand. Balthier winced, but did not dare stop playing, as the leaning Bandersnatch smashed his hand against the wall, the rocky bricks scratching at his thin, delicate flesh. But Alice had seen what she wanted to see.

Moving so slowly that it was like agony, she reached for the key hanging from the beast's collar. The Bandersnatch snorted again. She retracted her hand in caution, but steeled herself once more, finally taking the key. Within seconds, the lock was open, and the Vorpal Sword was in her hands.

Backing out of the hut (Balthier exited with a bow to the Bandersnatch, which growled at him pleasantly), they began to sneak toward the gates.

"How did you know to play music to the Bandersnatch?" Alice whispered as they tiptoed through the shadows. Balthier smiled.

"Music tames the savage beast. Fran has used it on me multiple times, and it's quite pleasant, actually."

Alice found herself not wanting to question what Balthier had done to be deemed a savage beast at times. The large quantities of blood soaked into the cracks of his dry lips and staining his shirt seemed answer enough.

"_Oy_! Where're you lot goin' with that there sword?" A lone soldier they had failed to spot in the guardhouse now moved to intercept them. Balthier promptly pulled taut his bowstring and shot him in the throat, where his armor was weak. The soldier fell with a muted gurgle as more poured out of the palace, armor clanging and crashing as they sounded the alarm. Alice raised the sword, but Balthier shook his head.

"You must only use the blade for the Jabberwocky. I will take care of these," he assured her, but Alice did not see how they could get out anymore. They were quickly being overwhelmed, though many Card Soldiers now littered the ground with his arrows protruding from their bodies like gruesome flowers. He must have a plan, she decided as the soldiers surrounded them. She did not want to believe he might be betraying her again. She could almost hear his strange, cold voice and the words he would say.

_Trusting me again, Alice? Tsk, tsk, innocent girls ask for hard lessons, and lessons are repeated until learned…_

She considered plunging the Vorpal Sword between his shoulder blades. A sword that could turn the darkness to ash would surely destroy his black heart.

That was when the Bandersnatch came roaring out of its hut, scattering Card Soldiers like bowling pins, skidding to a halt just in front of them. The soldiers quailed in the face of its monstrous wrath, and it pawed the ground like an enraged bull.

"Up you get," Balthier said, and she easily swung up onto its back. She turned to help him up, but stopped, finding him perched just behind her. Alice grabbed the creature's collar, and it responded like a horse, rearing up and pounding for the gates, crushing any unfortunate Card Soldier that got in their path.

"Which way toward Marmoreal?" she called over the galumph of the Bandersnatch's running pace.

"North. You will know when we cross the border," he replied. It was only then that she noticed how drawn he looked, his face paper-white, his breathing labored. His eyes were glazed with stress and pain. His gaze flickered toward something just to their left. "It won't be long now. I didn't abandon her, Highness, I just trust the Hatter more than I do the average man…"

When they entered the white gates and beheld the castle of Marmoreal, Balthier's eyes closed and he slumped forward. Alice caught him before he tumbled from the Bandersnatch's back. She bit her lip, turning his wrists up. The cuts had not healed— it appeared that they had festered. Black blood oozed sluggishly out of slashes, rimmed with swollen, raw, red flesh, dripping to the ground and standing out against the white marble courtyard. But that was not all. She caught sight of another long scratch, starting just under his bloodstained sleeve. Alice pushed it back, gasping.

His arms were gouged with other rotten scratches, all of them in the same fashion: the three parallel grooves made by claws. More of the same greeted her eyes when she lifted his shirt and vest to peer at his stomach. Sickening realization dawned as she looked from the sick pirate to the Bandersnatch.

Illosovic Stayne, the Knave of Hearts, had unleashed the Bandersnatch upon him as a means of torture. Even if blood loss from cutting his wrists did not kill him (which by now, it should have), the infection from the Bandersnatch's claws would.

* * *

OxO


	6. Marmoreal

Thanks to **fallacies**, **ElTangoDeRoxanne** and **emeraldonyxdragon**!

* * *

Alice looked about the marble courtyard desperately, spotting the White Queen, Mirana, and a few men descending the stairs of the castle. Cradling Balthier in her arms, she dashed toward them, skidding to a halt at the base of the stairs.

"My lady—" she gasped, not forgetting her manners. "My friend, he's been hurt by the Bandersnatch, badly— please, help— I don't know how he's lasted—"

"Fear not, Alice. You are in good hands now." Mirana smiled warmly, and Alice wanted to melt with relief as two men bearing a stretcher took Balthier from her. They vanished through the castle doors.

"I believe this belongs to you." Alice quickly picked the Vorpal Sword from where she had dropped it in her panic and presented it to the Queen. Pressing her palm to the pearl inlay, Mirana breathed deep, as if welcoming a long lost friend, and smiled wider.

"The Vorpal Sword has returned home. Thank you, Alice." Mirana lead the way through the Great Hall, replacing the sword on a pedestal flanked by a suit of armor. "I must admit, I hardly recognized you. You've grown so much."

"Too much Upelkuchen," Alice explained, and the Queen nodded knowingly, never losing her smile all the while.

"A dose of pishsalver ought to do the trick, then," she breezed through a marble entryway, just as an onion sailed over her head and splattered into the white door. Alice poked her head in, and spotted the March Hare screeching obscenities and twirling a ladle.

"You're alright! I feared that the Knave got you," she cried.

"Haw haw! It'll take more than a pack o' cards to stop me! Haw!" He threw another onion, laughing uproariously.

"Now then, the pishsalver." Mirana called Alice's attention to a small table strewn with all manner of medicinal looking items. She did not like how close the jar of fingers was to the mug of potion that the marble Queen was making, open as if it had just been used, and neither did she miss the look of disgust that passed over Mirana's face when she smelled a ladleful of brew.

"You're not like your sister at all. Are you really related?" Alice asked as Mirana handed over the potion. She gagged as she caught a whiff of pishsalver— it smelled of fish and the used stockings of a midden trawler. Steeling herself, she took a gulp, coughing at the revolting taste.

"We are quite different indeed— yes, I do wonder if we really are sisters. Is her head…?" Mirana gestured to her own, holding her hands away to exaggerate the size. Alice laughed, clutching the prison dress she had been wearing (which was now entirely too big) about her shoulders.

"Oh, yes, it is enormous! And she does like to chop off other people's heads, almost as if she were jealous."

"Well, Iracebeth is jealous of many things, love especially. How funny that she is the Queen of Hearts, don't you think?" Mirana sighed. "Unfortunately, instead of learning the finer, peaceful arts of potion making and kindness, she chose to take Dominion Over Living Things."

"Dolt class?" Alice cocked her head, the dress slipping off her shoulder, and Mirana giggled before standing.

"Yes, I like to think of it as such. Now, why not get some clothes that fit better? That cannot be comfortable."

* * *

Alice sat on a bench in the palace garden, listening to the trickle of fountains and the whisper of wind through the tree leaves. It was so peaceful; she wanted to be here forever. There were no Hamishes, no Aunt Imogens, and no girls who swam in the pond naked as the day they were born. Oh, how Marmoreal truly was a dreamland. A wonderland. A Rocking Horse Fly zoomed by, whinnying at a Dragon Fly that came roaring after it.

"Excuse me, but would you be Alice?" She turned toward the voice. A young man in white armor with skin and hair almost equally as pale approached her tentatively, his helm (a white horse's head) under his arm and a stone bottle in the other.

"Yes. What is it?"

"It's the man that you brought… he's quite peculiar. He won't let the doctors anywhere near him to treat his wounds, keeps saying things about them being dead and gone. The last time Doctor Aurum came close to him, he was very nearly incinerated. The man sleeps now, and Mirana has suggested you try to treat him, because he trusts you more." The soldier held out the bottle, and Alice took it from him delicately. "That is a salve made from Bandersnatch saliva. It will heal the infection, if you can get it on him."

"Thank you… can I have your name?" Alice asked, feeling it was only polite to ask, seeing as he was being so friendly.

"I am Valerius. Pleased to meet you." He saluted smartly and led her through a long corridor and up a twisted flight of stairs into a sunlit room.

It was white, like everything in in Marmoreal, but for a huge black swath of scorched stone that ran from the floor up the wall. Cocooned in sheets, Balthier slept very soundly, though— Alice frowned— he looked very tired, old almost. His hair was definitely not as vibrant as it had seemed when they first met, a hint of grey peeking through the layers of brown and brass, and his face had a distinctly sunken look to it. She sighed. He was three-and-a-half centuries old, she reasoned. It was a miracle that he even looked vaguely young. Alice stood over the sleeping man, simply watching as he took shallow, stuttering breaths.

His face contorted, and a low hiss escaped from between his teeth. He seemed to be in pain, and that reminded her of why she was here, holding a bottle of Bandersnatch saliva. She reached down, peeling a sheet back, much like one would shuck and ear of corn, and beheld his chest.

It was the first time she had seen a man's bare chest before. Most of the time, the English gentlemen were smothered in clothing from head to toe, though she imagined that Hamish had quite a muscular set of abdominals underneath his snow-white jacket. Balthier had a very muscular chest, though his waist was so lean she was reminded of greyhounds and whippets rather than the anatomy of any human. And once again, he had told her the truth. He had no heart, in every meaning of the word— a gold disk filled where his heart should be, surrounded by a puckered layer of scars. He had many, many scars, some so old she could barely see them, others slightly more recent or more damaging, and then others so fresh they wept and dribbed inky black gore on the sheets underneath. Still more festered, oozing pus and rimmed with red and black crust. Stayne was a cruel torturer, and the Bandersnatch's claws had gone very deeply into Balthier's flesh indeed. Alice traced a finger along a thick, ropy scar stretching from his right shoulder from his left hip. Like the rest of his skin, it was cold as winter ice, and equally as hard. His unmarked skin was softer, though she could still feel corded muscles tensing under her touch. She brushed the back of her fingers against his hollow cheek.

"_Bloody hell!_" His panicked voice filled the room. In an instant, she found herself on the ground as he exploded out of the bed, swearing up a blue streak mixed with the words to (she now recognized it for what it was) a spell. The bottle of medicine rolled away across the floor as he straddled her stomach, one hand around her throat, the other inches from her face, caging a glowing ball of lightning. His sharp teeth were bared in a ferocious snarl; his eyes were dark with both terror and rage.

The ball of lightning fizzled out, crackling, and he was off her in an instant when he recognized her.

"Don't scare me like that, girl! You nearly killed me with shock." Balthier staggered back to the bed, collapsing upon it and leaning against the cool wall, closing his eyes, once more appearing young and vibrant. Alice bent down, retrieving the bottle of Bandersnatch saliva.

"I did not mean to scare you— I only meant to help," she showed him the bottle, and he opened one eye to half-mast.

"Don't worry. I was having the oddest dream; there aren't any doctors around, are there?"

"None, you chased them all away," Alice shook her head, dipping her fingers into the jar. "If you turn around, I can get this on some of the scratches on your back."

He obliged, and shivered as she ran her fingers up and down his spinal. Balthier was very thin, she decided, for not only was his waist narrow, but his backbone jutted out under his skin like knobs. Her fingers went down over his shoulder blades and the backs of his ribs— bump, bump, bump, bump, all the way to the bottom.

"My mother would say you need to eat more."

"Fran, too, says I should eat more, or else I will wither away to skin and bones. She does not want to pirate with a sack of bones, or tell stories with one, either. Most decidedly bad for business, I daresay." Alice could not stop a giggle from escaping when he winked at her roguishly. "And now, my dear, the bottle?" Almost reluctantly, she gave it to him, not quite ready to give up the opportunity to do what she could never do in Hamish's presence. He began applying the salve to his lacerated stomach and chest, healing the wounds with magick as he went.

"I wish I could stay here. It's better than home," Alice sat down on the edge of his bed, watching as he tenderly prodded more ointment about a deep cut that ran across his largest scar. "Everything is better— the people are kinder, and even the animals are more interesting. They can talk."

"Ah, but the beasties are meaner, and so are the villains. A serpent always lies beneath the gilt exterior." Balthier said softly. "There is no rose without thorns. I have marveled at the resilience of humans for quite some time now. It seems that as soon as they have found greener pastures from the pits of despair they were mired in, they are content and happy. I too thought so, for the longest time, but I ought to know better than any that old scars ne'er fade, and the past is a wolf that snaps at the heels of the present. It all catches up, one day or another."

Alice frowned. "I thought that pirates were free."

"So did I, love, so did I. What? It's true— you give me an example where a pirate died free." Balthier's eyes slid toward the window. "Reddas? Please, tell me it is a joke. He died still with penance on his lips. And don't look at _me_. I died being disgustingly chivalrous, a slave to nobility, if you will." Alice sighed— he was lost to her, again. "The cards… the cards don't lie. Freedom is not in my future, and neither was it in my past."

"Balthier," Alice gently touched his shoulder, and he grudgingly returned.

"Pardon?"

"The cards… tell me about the cards."

He frowned. "Oh, Alice. You're the right size again." She was now shorter than he was by four inches, rather than a foot or five.

"Don't change the subject."

"Very well— the cards. You probably know them as the tarot?"

Alice nodded. "My mother calls them dreck. She says there is no worth in them— just a load of hogwash."

"I believed so, too— I fancy myself a man of science, though certainly, my condition makes it slightly hard to uphold that position."

"You do magic." Alice pointed out, but Balthier scoffed.

"Magic? Hardly— I can explain the theory behind magick if you would like. There is nothing magical to it. But the cards; these are no ordinary cards. They belonged once to the sea goddess of Earth: Calypso, the woman responsible for who and what I am today. Hm…? Yes, I do blame her. I was supposed to get better, not worse. I was only supposed to be dead, not…not…" he trailed off, staring out the window. Alice rose from the bed, shaking her head. It was hard to get anything sensible out of the pirate nowadays without him sinking into another fit of insanity. His eyes snapped toward her. "These cards are very special because they _can_ tell the future, perhaps in a very roundabout way, but all things they allude to come about eventually."

"Could you read my cards?" Alice asked curiously. Balthier shrugged.

"I'm not very good at it, and I don't have them, Fran does. She understands how they work better. I do hope she and Tarrant found a way out of Salazen Grum."

Alice felt her heart sink. She had been trying to avoid thinking about the bloody Red Queen and her horrid palace at all, merely putting hope upon hope that the Hatter was still alive.

"For both our sakes, Balthier, I pray you're right," she whispered.

"The leading man is always right, Princess."


	7. Alice at Last

Thank you to **ElTangoDeRoxanne, fallacies, and emeraldonyxdragon**. I might not update for the next few days because I am having oral surgery tomorrow. JOY.

* * *

Alice watched with amusement as Balthier and Valerius sparred good-naturedly, the knight armed with a pike, and the pirate armed with a sword and dagger. Despite holding obvious advantages, Valerius ignored Balthier's complaints and fought with a handicap, refusing to fully utilize his weapon.

"You are injured, pirate. You will reopen your wounds." He parried a strike that looked like silver lightning to Alice's eyes and jabbed at the pirate with his pike.

"To hell with wounds. While I sit like a docile chocobo and heal, I am also growing fat in my dotage." Balthier said cheerfully as the pike skimmed by his ribs with barely an inch to spare. When he jumped forward for another attack, Valerius failed to block in time and the dagger gouged his breastplate.

"Good one," the knight complimented. "I may have to put in a little effort now."

"If you did not wear armor, you would have been dead," Balthier purred. "Alas, I shall have to put in effort, too, if that is what you are going to do."

The rate of their strikes quickened, the screech of metal upon metal loud in Alice's ears. The pirate seemed to be in a good mood today, and his general health had improved— he'd yet to have his morning argument with "Ratsbane", or his noontime conversation where he would attempt to placate "Princess". Alice was glad that the first "person" he had stopped talking to was "Captain"; Balthier would get frustrated by Captain's apparently very moral stance, get into a towering rage. What was the most frightening was how quiet he would get the more angry he was, but his silence reminded Alice of a coiled spring or a cat waiting to pounce.

Mirana entered the yard, watching the knight and pirate spar.

"No violence, please," she said, shaking a finger as she proceeded to the tiny spyglass on the other side of the courtyard. Balthier and Valerius lowered their weapons, and the pirate wiped a bead of sweat (Alice watched this, intrigued, she did not think he could sweat) from his forehead. "We have guests coming, and I would not like them to get the wrong impression," she allowed Alice to look through the spyglass, while Balthier simply peered where the White Queen directed. The Hatter, the Tweedles, McTwisp, the Dodo, and Mally were just cresting the rise, accompanied by the most stunning woman Alice had ever seen. Her cocoa skin and snow-white hair added to her sense of eccentricity, and Alice was willing to bet that the woman's outfit would kill many women at home. Her most prominent features were a set of rabbit ears upon her head, but Alice did not feel them out of place in Underland.

"It seems our friends have returned from Salazen Grum." Mirana said, re-entering the castle. "Perhaps you would like to greet them?"

Alice saw Balthier's grip on the railing tighten. "Perhaps…" he said, his eyes riveted on the woman coming toward the castle. He took a deep breath. "Might as well pay the piper."

They stood side-by-side at the gates of Marmoreal, waiting for the escaped prisoners of the Red Queen to arrive. Balthier fidgeted, plucking viciously at his cuffs until Alice slapped his hands away.

"You'll destroy your sleeves if you keep that up," she gave him a reassuring smile. "What are you so nervous for?"

"Fran's reaction." He clenched his fists and placed them behind his back to stop himself from ripping at his cuffs again. "Have I told you that she has a different reaction every time I come back from one of our little traveling exploits? The first time, she kissed me. The second time, we were together, so nothing happened… the third time, she slapped me. What is going to happen now?"

"I'm sure she will be glad to see you after prison." Alice said.

"Prison is a common place for us," Balthier answered somewhat wistfully. "No, I am afraid that I have done bad things, and that I am going to be very sad by the time today is up."

Fran strode toward Balthier, devouring the ground with her long, proud gait. Alice, squeezing Tarrant half to death while enjoying the feeling of his hands stroking through her hair, watched them out of the corner of her eye. She could not hear what was said, but Balthier bowed his head, plucking at his cuffs once more. In the dying sunlight, Alice fancied she saw a tear slide down his face, but when he turned toward her slightly, resting his weight on one leg, she knew it was her imagination. Fran ran a hand through her hair, flattening her ears and allowing them to pop back up again. Balthier seemed to quail for a moment, before kneeling before the woman and kissing her hand. Together, they walked into the palace, but not before Alice saw Fran pull a pack of cards from a small bag on her hip and begin shuffling them.

"Is everything okay?" Tarrant asked, raising an eyebrow. Alice nodded, smiling as Chessur descended out of the air, riding the Hatter's top hat. Tarrant snatched it out of the cat's paws, and as he vanished, Chess caressed it, purring,

"Goodbye, sweet hat," with that, he melted into the twilight shadows.

"Found your muchness yet, Alice?" Tarrant continued. She sighed.

"If this is about slaying the Jabberwock, I don't want to hear it." Alice at last conceded. Tarrant rubbed at his eyes with a pale, pink-splotched hand.

"I suppose it would be useless for me to say anything, then."

"Quite. This is my dream, and whatever happens is up to me." Alice turned back to regarding the quiet valley, and the Hatter leaned on the rail next to her.

"If this is all a dream, that would mean that I'm not real." Tarrant looked terrified by the implication.

"I'm afraid so."

"Don't worry, Tarrant." Balthier joined them on the balcony, Fran following him like a shadow. "I think, and therefore, I exist. And Alice, if it's only your fantasy, why is it killing me?" he asked, lifting his sleeve slightly so she could see the crisscross of Bandersnatch scars that she knew now covered his body. She could not help but feel it was her fault, though she knew if she voiced her thoughts, Balthier would immediately shoot her down, saying it was his own and no one else's.

"Everyone here expects something impossible out of me. Everything that happens here is impossible. Rabbits can't talk or wear clothes. Bandersnatch don't exist. People don't have heads as huge as college globes. Cake doesn't make you grow, and foul water doesn't make you shrink. And last, corpses cannot walk around, talk, or betray people!" she said, venting her fears at last. Balthier recoiled from her, taking a step back as if struck.

"It's not my fault that I'm this way." Balthier said quietly. "And McTwisp can't help but speak. The Bandersnatch could not stop itself from being born, and I doubt that Upelkuchen and Pishsalver have a _desire_ to make you shrink or grow." Fran leaned forward, whispering in his ear, and pressed something into his hand. He glanced down at it, then handed it to Alice. "I think you should see these."

Three cards lie in his hand, their backs to her. The image of a leering moon, blood dripping from its teeth, smirked at her in the half-light. She shivered. When he moved his hand a little bit to give them to her, the blood seemed to slid further down the moon's face to pool in the bottom of the picture. She hesitated.

"Go on, they don't bite," Balthier, with all the skill of a sleight of hand master, made them vanish and reappear in his other hand. Behind him, Fran snickered.

"We drew them for you— don't you want to know what will happen?" she asked. Her voice was as exotic as her looks, somewhat refined, yet at the same time very alien. Tarrant poked her back.

"Well, go on, take them!" he said. Alice took the gleeful moon into her hands, turning the cards over one by one.

The first had a small black zero painted in the corner, and depicted a fanciful man standing on the edge of a cliff, a sack over his shoulder. "The Fool," Fran said. "Zero. At the start of the journey, there is nothing. The Fool is not good, but neither is he evil. He carries the potential to become both."

Alice turned over the next card. A man stood over a pot of bubbling… something, his hand over his head. "The Magician. He has the ability to make something of nothing through use of his will alone. His power is almost limitless."

The last card seemed to be laughing at her. She did not know much about the tarot, but she knew that one of the cards was Death. With her luck, she might have it in her hand. She really did not want to see what was on the other side of this moon drooling blood.

"Peace, Alice. It is nothing bad." Balthier promised her. She flipped it over, and blinked. The card simply bore the image of a man hanging by his foot from a tree, his arms tied behind his back. "The Hanging Man— nothing is what it seems. Don't forget that, hm?"

"Are these things that are going to happen?" Alice asked, studying the Hanging Man card. Fran raised and lowered one shoulder by way of answer.

"Perhaps; some might have already happened, some might yet to be. I do not doubt that the Fool is you, Alice, and you are the Magician, too. I will now ask you: who do you think is the Hanging Man?" Fran tilted her head slightly.

"Balthier." Alice replied promptly. The named man burst out laughing.

"I can see why you'd say that after my little double-cross," he sighed, crouching to look into a pond. Fran examined Alice thoughtfully before looking at the blue caterpillar that crawled out of her white hair.

"I am afraid she is still not quite Alice yet, Absolem. Not until she knows who the true Hanging Man is," she said. At hearing this, Alice's face fell. She was so tired of being told who she was and who she was not. Tarrant put a gentle hand on her shoulder, but she pushed it away. Balthier's eyes widened slightly as she stormed toward him.

"Not good," he muttered, just as Alice placed her hands on his chest and gave him a firm push. He tumbled head over heels into the pond, water splashing everywhere. When he re-emerged, Alice crouched to his level.

"And you're not one to tell me who I am either, liar!" With that, she vanished into the castle. Balthier dragged himself out of the pond, water plants clinging to his hair. A crab dangled from his ear, and he swatted it off.

"Damn," he picked up a card from where Alice had dropped it, turning it over. "The Hanging Man, eh?" putting the card down, he picked the little crab up and held it to his eye level. "You just can't stop following me, can you? Well, if not all of her muchness, she's regained _something_, don't you think?" the crab waved its claws at him ambiguously. Balthier snorted. "It's not that I'm ungrateful. I mean, I'm glad you allowed me to return back to Fran, and to spend the rest of eternity with her. It is like the stereotypical romantic dream come true. But… I do wish you would stop interfering with my life, Calypso. I've quite enough of gods."

* * *

Alice fled through the halls, not knowing where she went. She sped past Mirana, Valerius, and even the Tweedles, who responded with twin cries of:

"Watch it—"

"Alice!"

She burst into her room and flung herself onto the bed, sobbing.

"So you still think this is a dream, don't you, stupid girl?" Absolem's rich voice broke upon her. She looked up to see the caterpillar inching down the wall near her head, dragging his hookah with him.

"Go away. Ever since I have come here, everyone has told me what to do and what to expect, and _you_ have done nothing but call me stupid. Tell me why I shouldn't just smash you under my thumb, Absolem." Alice replied.

"Because you would be very, very sad." Absolem replied simply. Alice snorted.

"No, not really."

"You've been here before. I'm quite surprised you haven't remembered by now." The caterpillar blew a plume of smoke into her face, and she waved it away, coughing.

Memories flashed before her eyes. Having Tea with the Hatter, following the Cheshire Cat, painting the roses red.

"So it was real— those dreams weren't dreams, they were memories." She whispered.

"Yes," Absolem said. Alice frowned.

"Balthier and Fran were not there."

"No, they came through a different means— a magical looking glass in a pool of seawater. Unfortunately, they came into the hands of the Red Queen first. Iracebeth noticed his gift for deception and his devotion to Fran. Naturally she was jealous," Absolem chuckled, and Alice remembered what Mirana said: _Iracebeth is jealous of many things, love especially. Funny she is the Queen of Hearts, no?_

"She removed Fran from the picture, locking her away in the dungeons, and set about trying to take Balthier for herself. Sadly for her, her precious pirate had no heart for her to be the Queen of— he'd given it away." Alice put the pieces together. _She was trying to find out why Fran was so important… I wasn't going to tell_…Balthier had said while he picked the lock.

"Fran is his heart— his muchness, isn't she?"

"At last, someone with an iota of intelligence has noted that, besides me." Absolem said dully, sucking on his hookah. "He died for her, you know. Told me so himself. He chose a cursed life as a walking corpse so he could return to her. Now tell me, Alice. Where is your muchness?"

She paused, thinking.

"Can't tell me that, can you?" Absolem inched back up the wall.

"No, I can! It's in here!" Alice placed a hand over her heart.

"Oh?"

"I am the Fool. I've come here on a journey. I am the magician. I will change things through my will alone. And the Hanging Man— that is all of us. He is me, you, Fran, Balthier, Tarrant— everybody. Even the Jabberwock."

"Well now, I'm a butterfly. Alice, at last." Absolem chuckled.

"Thank you, Absolem." Gently, Alice tapped his head. "Now, I have an appointment with the Jabberwocky today, and I would hate to miss it."

* * *

She encountered the sky pirates on her way to don the armor of the champion. Balthier hastily moved out of the way, but she grabbed him by the arm. He was still damp, and the cold water made his skin feel like the bite of an arctic ice pack.

"What now, Alice? Come to throw me off a balcony? I can't guarantee I'll make it back in one piece if you did that." Balthier shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flickering to Fran for some kind of salvation.

"Actually, I wanted to apologize for pushing you into the pond earlier. I don't know why I did it." Alice said.

"You were angry, that's why. I think you could have killed Yiazmat with that look." Balthier ran a hand through his wet hair. "Where are you going?"

Alice smiled this time, a true smile. "I'm going out to kill the Jabberwocky."

Fran nodded approvingly, and Balthier watched as the young girl continued down the hall.

"Well now, I have seen a good thing. I don't feel so bad about marching to war now." He said. The Viera stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, watching with amusement as goose bumps rose in response.

"I suppose. If that is the case, you wouldn't happen to have my bow still, would you?"

* * *

Yays?


	8. Last Chance

Thank you for reading the World Traveler Series, the biggest undertaking I have written! I am serious now. This was the last one. LAST ONE. No more. Ever. EVAR. However, I will still write for FFXII, and do my cracky crossovers. So check back on my profile page. Ya never know what you'll find.

Thanks to **ElTangoDeRoxanne**, **fallacies**, and **emeraldonyxdragon**. I luuuuv you!

* * *

Alice clanked noisily down the stars of the White Queen's palace in her armor, the Vorpal Sword swinging from her hip. Too late, she realized that she did not know how to use a blade, and now searched for Balthier to teach her. Only, she had run out of time. How she wished she was the Hatter— stuck perennially at teatime ever since he had attempted to murder Time. Alice heard Fran's light, exotic tones from the entrance courtyard, followed by a snort from Balthier. Clanking around the corner, she drew her sword, pressing it against Balthier's back.

"En garde!" Alice shouted. The pirate did not jump, or cry out. He simply turned his head, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Hello, Alice. Was that meant to be an ambush?" he asked. Alice bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"Yes," she said seriously.

"Well then, it defeats the purpose of an ambush to yell so, m'dear. And, I happen to have not one, but _two_ aces in the hole. Care to try naming them?" Balthier smirked.

Alice tilted her head in thought. "You can't die."

"Yes, that's one of them."

"I don't know the other." Alice admitted, and Balthier's smirk changed into a devilish grin. He lifted his arm, revealing the black tip of a nasty arrow nocked to Fran's bow.

"Imagine, for a moment, you had enough courage to wound me." Balthier said. "As I fell, you would be presented with this lovely gift from Fran. Keep your eyes open and your feet silent— that is the best advice I can give you."

"I don't know how I am to be silent in this." Alice took a step back, her armor rattling. Fran snorted, and Balthier chuckled.

"I remember gallivanting about in full body armor like that in my youth. You figure things out," he said. "I will give you a hint. Lift your feet and walk heel to toe, or get a mount."

Alice smiled thinly, turning to chuck the Bandersnatch under its chin as it sauntered over from a nearby flowerbed. Tarrant perched on its back, but Balthier paled. "I already have my mount, thank you," she said calmly.

"I think we will be taking horses to the Chessboard field," Fran said smoothly. "Balthier is no longer on good terms with the Bandersnatch, I think."

"Not really," Balthier grumbled as he swung himself onto a white horse. Mirana brought her own mount toward them; its hooves daintily clip clopped over the tiles. Fran distastefully took in the White Queen's voluminous gown, lace, frills and petticoats billowing in the wind.

"Her majesty will not be fighting?" Fran asked, the driest amount of humor slipping into her tone.

"I am afraid not, it is against my vows." Mirana replied, bowing her head in deference to the Viera. "But now, shall we go off to war?"

"Won't kill a man, but will let others kill for her. 'Tis a strange world, aye?" Balthier said absently.

"Yes, very," his horse replied.

* * *

The two armies filed onto the Chessboard Field, the red Card soldiers on one side, and white chess soldiers on the other. Iracebeth fanned herself with a fan of flamingo feathers, fidgeting nervously. Mirana dismounted gracefully, sweeping forward for a few last words with her sister.

"Hello, Iracebeth, my sister." Mirana curtseyed low, her petticoats fanning in the light breeze.

"Hello." Iracebeth barely looked at her, instead focusing on Alice. "Hello, Um."

Alice slid from the Bandersnatch's back. "Your majesty," she curtseyed with as much grace as she could when her skirt happened to be made out of metal. Iracebeth's lip curled, but when she turned to Balthier, her face was one of enraptured amour.

"Ah, Balthier. I will give you one last chance— you can join me, and I will forgive you and lavish you with all the attentions you could _ever_ want. Or you could stay with that little woman Fran and the even littler woman Mirana, after which I will cut off your head and chop your body into little pieces and put them in separate jars so that you can never regenerate." Iracebeth sighed like a lovesick girl. Balthier rubbed his forehead wearily.

"When your majesty is old and feeble, will a young butterfly like myself want to stay? I would rather think not. Your life will pass before me faster than I can blink, for I will live forever, and you will wither away. I owe my allegiance to no one— not you, not Mirana, and not Alice," he said firmly.

"Then you should run." Iracebeth returned sweetly. "Far, far, away, and pray I never catch you. This is not your fight, so I suggest you don't fight it."

"My fight is not with you," Balthier snapped. "It's with Stayne."

"Please, both of you! We don't have to fight," Mirana said wretchedly. Iracebeth shook her huge head, her haughty look firmly in place.

"No, I think you will find we do. You were always Daddy's favorite— all you had to do was blink your pretty little eyes and he would give you whatever you wanted. You will find it does not work with me. I'm not about to hand it over. I'm the oldest— I get the crown. It's _mine_."

"Iracebeth…" Mirana sounded as if her heart was breaking.

"Enough. Jabberwocky!" Iracebeth shrieked. "Where's your champion, little sister?"

"Alice, please, come forward." Mirana called. Alice nervously dismounted the Bandersnatch.

"Are you ready?" Tarrant asked, his eyes glowing orange. "You can do it— it's not impossible."

"My father used to believe in six impossible things before breakfast," Alice replied quietly.

"A most noble practice. However, I think you might want to focus on the Jabberwocky. The sword will know its enemy— all you have to do is hold on."

Alice began to walk forward as, in the distance, a hillock seemed to come to life, dust and stone flying off of it. A long, black claw stretched skyward, followed by a spiny wing. Alice did her best to have a stiff lip, but it was hard to look brave when the armor amplified the sound of her shaking knees. As she passed Fran and Balthier, the Viera traced a spell in the air, and Alice felt herself filled with courage.

"Bravery— it will give you the strength to fight. However, when the spell expires, I hope you will have found your own valor." Fran said.

"Good luck," Balthier shrugged.

"That's it?" Alice asked, unable to help but feel slighted at his lack of care.

"What more is there to say? We all know you'll win. The Oraculum said nothing about you dying, and Death was not in your cards." The pirate replied. As Alice marched forth to face the Jabberwock, Fran nudged her partner.

"You mean, Death was not in the cards you showed her," she whispered. Balthier closed his eyes.

"It might not be her. The cards could be referring to the Jabberwocky. Didn't you say that Death was not necessarily death, it was a transformation? Alice doesn't know that, and she doesn't need to see. By withholding that information, we are protecting her. I'm not remorseful, Fran, I'm already a dyed in the wool liar. We both know that, and she does, too," he said, reopening his eyes and focusing on the Jabberwocky stomping toward Alice.

Alice rather thought the Jabberwocky was smaller than she expected. She had grilled Balthier and Fran for all their knowledge about dragons, and listened to their tales of the Hell Wyrm, Yiazmat, Tiamat, Deathgaze, and the Undying. Tarrant had regaled her with stories of the first knight who killed the Jabberwocky.

"What happened to him?" she had asked. Tarrant fidgeted.

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you…"

Alice took that to mean he died. It was not reassuring. _We all know you'll win._ Balthier had said, but she also knew he was a liar. The Jabberwocky advanced until it towered over her. To her shock, the dragon began to speak.

"So, we meet again, my old enemy," the beast said in a rich, velveteen voice. Alice cowered, the Bravery Spell barely holding against her barrage of emotion.

"I don't think we have ever met before." Alice said, her voice shaking.

"Not you," the Jabberwocky snapped. "The Vorpal Sword. I have not forgotten the feel of its blade."

The next time the beast opened its mouth, a bolt of purple lightning arced at her. Alice barely had time to raise her shield, repelling the attack, but falling to her knees. The Jabberwocky hissed with pleasure, lashing its tail as it circled her. Its jaws snapped dangerously close to her head as she scrabbled backward, Jabberwock saliva flecking her face and armor.

"Tarrant, no!" Mirana cried. Alice looked back just in time to see the Hatter rush forward, a broadsword in hand, and stab it deep into the beast's tail.

"The Hatter interferes! OFF WITH HIS HEAD!" Iracebeth shrieked.

"A flea has bitten me!" the Jabberwocky roared, whirling. Tarrant's eyes widened as the black dragon's tail, thick as a tree trunk but sinuous as a snake, came whistling toward him. Balthier leaped off his mount in front of the Hatter, chanting a Protect spell, but even Alice, who had no experience with magick, could tell something was wrong.

A weak, wavering blue shield appeared between Balthier and the Jabberwocky, and the monster's tail smashed into it. The shield shattered like glass with a rock thrown through it. Barely slowing, the Jabberwock's tail slammed into Balthier's stomach. The pirate managed to push Tarrant down before the force of the blow flung him several meters away. Alice heard the crunch of breaking bone and saw the black blood fly, spattering the white chess squares and blending in with the black. Silence reigned supreme.

Fran jumped off her horse, quickly kneeling next to her fallen partner. After a moment, Balthier groaned, turning his head to the side and wincing.

"Fran," he moaned after a moment. "I think my back is broken."

"We'll have to fix that then, won't we, old man?" Fran teased, pressing a hand to his back and channeling healing magick over the break. "From the amount of internal bleeding, I am willing to bet your stomach is shot as well. Why do you put yourself in danger, my Hume?"

"I'm not old." Balthier grumbled. "I really ought to take my own advice when I say that the best intentions invite the worst kind of trouble."

Alice almost laughed with relief until the Hatter yelled, "_Alice, concentrate on the Jabberwocky!_"

A huge claw crashed down next to her head, throwing up rubble from the ground. Alice rolled out of the way, regaining her feet and fleeing into the ruins near the side of the field. Snarling and hissing, the Jabberwocky followed, throwing soldiers of both sides out of the way. She ducked as the dragon grabbed a nearby card soldier and flung it at her, climbing the ancient stairs.

"I can believe in six impossible things before breakfast. Count them, Alice. One: There is a world called Underland." Alice panted, dodging the Jub-jub bird as it screeched by. "Two: Rabbits can talk and wear clothes." The Jabberwocky screamed, and as if it had a mind of its own, her hand jumped forward, and the Vorpal Sword sliced through the monster's tongue. The Jobberwock took flight once more. "Three: Corpses can walk and talk." Alice lithely jumped over a break in the stairs, just as the Jabberwocky burst through the floor. She kicked it in the nose with a metal booted foot. "Four: there is a cake that can make you grow." Where was the dragon? "Five: Chess pieces and cards can be soldiers." Alice pressed her back to a wall, searching for any sign of the Jabberwocky before dashing for the highest point she could find. "Six: _I can slay the Jabberwocky._"

Time seemed to slow as the Jabberwocky exploded upward, rearing high over her and blotting out the sun. She raised the Vorpal Sword in her hands, but in a moment of anticlimax, the dragon buffeted her wildly with its wings, throwing her to the ground. The sword clattered away.

"Too bad, little warrior." The Jabberwocky loomed over her like a dark cloud, red eyes glinting. Alice closed her eyes as the fanged mouth opened, teeth ready to dig into her flesh. Those teeth never came. Her world shook as the Jabberwock screamed and stomped its feet, tossing its head wildly. When it lowered its head, Alice caught sight of a black arrow that had magically blossomed out of its eye. Purple blood poured out of the empty socket. Alice dared to look behind her to the Chessboard field, and saw Fran standing proud as an ancient oak, her bowstring humming from the arrow she'd just released.

Alice dove for the Vorpal Sword. "This is your last chance, Alice!" she whispered.

The first strike bit halfway through the dragon's thick hide. The second severed it clean off. Down the stairs the head thumped, rolling over and over, while the body wavered, wings and legs moving in an uncoordinated fashion. Slowly, it slid from the broken stairway to the ground far below.

"At last," she numbly walked down the spiral staircase, careful not to slip in the purple Jabberwock blood coating the white steps. "It is done."

All fighting on the battlefield ceased at the Jabberwocky's death, but for in one place. A vicious battle still raged between Balthier, Tarrant, and the Knave, the pirate and the Hatter both ganging up on Stayne.

Together they drove him to the ground, the final straw that broke the proverbial camel's back being when Balthier drove the toe of his metal shoe into Stayne's groin for the second time in one week. At seeing his opponent on the ground, Tarrant seemed to lose his conviction, dropping his sword and backing away. Balthier, on the other hand, pushed forward, poised for the finishing blow. Alice found that, while the pirate may have killed many people in his long existence, she did not want to see him do it.

"Balthier, stop!" She cried, jumping down the last two steps and dashing across the field.

He paused, his head jerking up to look at her face. Silver eyes bored into sky blue, and Alice wondered if she might end up using the Vorpal Sword on him. Then he smiled, sheathing his sword.

"If that is what you want, Princess, this leading man is hardly enough to stop you." Alice sighed with relief.

"You've lost, Iracebeth." Mirana stepped forward daintily from where she had watched from the sidelines. "I am the ruler now."

Iracebeth squeaked indignantly as the Cheshire cat lifted the crown off her head and placed on Mirana's instead. "Well, I never— someone _do_ something. Off with her head!"

"We'll not listen to you anymore. Bloody big head." One by one, the card soldiers tossed their spears to the ground.

"My lady," Stayne said greasily, climbing to his feet and nursing his manhood. Balthier looked as if he wanted to kick the Knave again, but Fran laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Surely, you would see to pardon me."

"Illosovic Stayne… you have committed many crimes in Underland in the past. I am a kind person, but it seems I do not owe you any kindness. You and Iracebeth shall be exiled to the Outlands for the rest of your natural lives from this moment forward." Mirana decreed.

"At least we will still have each other." Iracebeth smiled at him amorously, and Stayne looked horrified. In a flash, he pulled a knife from his belt. Fran lifted her hand from Balthier's shoulder, and the pirate tackled him, dragging the Knave to the ground. Tarrant handcuffed the Red Queen and Stayne together while Valerius searched the Knave for any more weapons. Iracebeth gasped.

"He tried to kill me! _He tried to kill me! _You can't leave me with him! Mirana!" her screams faded into the distance.

Chessur hovered next to Tarrant's head as he gazed at the shrinking dot that was Iracebeth and Stayne. "Well now, Hatter, don't you have something you need to do?"

"Ah yes… Futterwacken." The Mad Hatter grinned.

* * *

"Here is the blood of the Jabberwocky. Drink it, and it will take you home." Mirana handed Balthier, Alice, and Fran each a vial of purple blood.

"But you don't have to go. You could stay with us!" Tarrant said, looking hopeful. Alice smiled sadly.

"I would love to stay, Hatter, but there are things I have to do, business that needs finishing. Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it," she whispered, leaning forward. Tarrant closed his eyes.

"Alice, I don't want you to forget me again." he choked.

"I won't. How could I, after all we've been through?"

"Promise?"

"I promise." Alice said. "Balthier, are you and Fran going back to your world, too?"

"I'm afraid so. Ivalice cannot be without her leading man for long." Balthier grinned. Fran nodded.

"We have several… investments that need monitoring." She explained.

"Perhaps I shall lock myself away in my cabin for the rest of eternity," Balthier said. "I've quite enough adventure for a lifetime. Though, maybe in a century or two, I might feel differently, eh?"

"You were never one to sit still." Fran said, uncorking her vial. "Shouldn't we be going now?"

"I was never one for long goodbyes." Balthier followed her example; tilting his head back and swallowing the contents of the vial in one go. He grimaced. "I say, that was the worst blood I have ever tasted."

The air around them warped, simply as if a mirage passed in front of them, but in one moment, they were gone. Alice felt as if her heart was breaking as she followed their example.

"Be back soon?" Tarrant asked.

"I promised." Alice replied. She uncorked the vial and took a sip.

* * *

Alice tumbled out of the rabbit hole, coughing. Her blue dress was ruined— what would her mother say? Nothing good, of course.

"Oh… the wedding…" she mumbled. How she did not want to go back. A thought suddenly occurred to her.

"This is not my dream, but this is my future."

_We have several… investments that need monitoring_...

"Investments, is it?"

* * *

The end.


End file.
